


Running in the Wrong Direction

by MoanDiary



Series: Moan Your Way Through Fuckruary [13]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Prompt: Denial, Prompt: Humiliation, dan knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: If only humans knew what she knew, what waited for them in the shadows of their own souls.
Relationships: Dan Espinoza/Mazikeen
Series: Moan Your Way Through Fuckruary [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626784
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	Running in the Wrong Direction

“It’s not true,” Dan pants as they stumble through the door into his pitch-black apartment. “Tell me it’s not true.”

He tries to push her against the wall, and they turn and pin each other a few times in a violent dance, each unwilling to submit, until finally they reach the doorway to his bedroom, and Maze takes the opportunity to jerk him forward by his jacket lapels, easily spinning him and throwing him down onto his sad, unmade single man’s bed.

Her eyes can see perfectly in the darkness, though he fumbles in it, struggling to yank off his shoes in the meager light from the parking lot outside. She was raised in the darkness; it’s in her blood, in her heart. This world’s light is blinding. It’s the light that makes humans so short-sighted, so vulnerable to their petty desire and fear and weakness. If only they knew what she knew, what waited for them in the shadows of their own souls.

“Do you want the truth, or do you want to fuck?” She asks bluntly. He hesitates, so she makes the decision herself, dragging down his half-opened jeans and his boxer-briefs and pushing him onto his back.

His hands rise to remove her top, but she intercepts them with the speed of a viper’s strike and pushes them back down onto the bed.

“You want to fuck, then let’s fuck,” she says.

His expression hardens. She rucks up her skirt to the waist and straddles him, grinding against his stiffening cock. She’s wet from the fight they just finished and the convict they hunted down, not from him, but it doesn’t make much difference. She tried soft and lovey-dovey with humans and it left her more infuriatingly alone than ever, dreams haunted by dark doe-eyes and voluminous curls—so, fuck it.

She jerks him roughly to try to get him to come to full attention. He grits his teeth and digs his fingers into her thighs.

“Come on, Big Dan,” she mocks. “You fucked Mrs. God, and you can’t fuck me?”

“Don’t— _ say _ shit like that. It’s not real, it’s all some stupid—some  _ trick _ .”

“Sure.”

Her mockery makes him rise to the challenge, though. She can play him like a fiddle. She knows his kind well; they’re a dime a dozen in Hell. Soon he’s hard enough to make it work, and she mounts him, starting up a brisk rhythm almost immediately. He makes a choked noise and grips her tits through the black leather of her top, massaging them in a way that’s not unpleasant. He isn’t untalented in bed (she knows Decker has more self-respect than that), just a blind, angry fool. 

“Y-yeah, fuck,” he grunts. She slides two manicured fingers into his mouth to shut him up and he sucks on them distractingly enough that she almost misses one of his hands creeping down to her clit.

She grins and growls, throwing back her head at the unexpected jolt of pleasure, circling her hips, pressing his head into the mattress as his diligent tongue slides between her fingers and he works her clit in hard little circles.

“Mm…” she groans, rising up and leaning forward to fuck him harder. She sees her destination like a road sign in the distance and drives for it single-mindedly. Dan beats her there with a guttural shout, head tipping back. 

She grits her teeth in annoyance and goes faster before he loses his hard-on.

“Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” he whimpers, hands twisting in the sheets as she pulls her pleasure from his pain.

“Yes,” she hisses as she finally reaches her peak, hips slowing as she wrings out every last bit of enjoyment she can get from this sorry evening. She doesn’t collapse onto him afterward, though, doesn’t pretend this is anything more than it is. She swings off of him and stands, tugging her skirt back down and appraising him.

The expression of lust and pleasure is gone, leaving only a low, simmering shock and dread and desperation behind. He’s a pitiful picture, on his back on his mussed bed with his limp dick laying across his thigh and his pants around his ankles.

“What—what can I even do? Do I...pray, or go to confession, or _—fuck— _ volunteer at a soup kitchen or something? How could I possibly get right with God?” he mutters, a hysterical edge to his voice.

She feels a stab of sympathy for him. She happily tortured millions of souls in Hell, but the thought of Dan being one of them makes her chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Fuck God. Get right with yourself,” she says brusquely, smoothing her hair in his mirror.

She’s out the door before she can hear his reply.


End file.
